


Inked into the Pages

by LacunaChronicles (BabylonsFall)



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/pseuds/LacunaChronicles
Summary: Adam notices a new tattoo. Santi's more than willing to share. (Or, late night conversations int he library)
Relationships: Male Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Inked into the Pages

"You know, one of these days, you're gonna surprise me while I'm holding one of Nate's books. And then I'm gonna rip it or something ridiculous, and he's gonna hate me." Santi says, without looking up from his current book.

He doesn't know when he became so attuned to his personal space. Can't remember if he's always been like that but never had a reason to examine it further, surrounded by generally loud and noticeable humans as he'd been. 

And can't quite tell if it's even him, and not something they're doing to be considerate.

He's willing to bet not though, given the distinctly annoyed sounding huff he gets in return for his warning as Adam finally slips out of the shadows by the doorway and over to the table Santi claimed….going on five hours ago now.

"Just saying," Santi offers, grinning up at the man before going back to his book. It gets that barely there breath of a laugh he was looking for, and his grin softens, where it's hidden in the pages.

Adam hesitates a moment before dropping down into the chair beside him, "It's almost two in the morning…" he hedges, tone gentle in it's attempt not to reprimand. He gets pretty close, Santi'll give him that.

"I know. Couldn't sleep. Didn't feel like going for a walk either." He doesn't even have to look up to know Adams' shoulders just dropped a fraction in relief. He may not have ever gotten on Santi's case about wandering out to the warehouse that the whole Murphy situation had called a stage, but Santi knew the worry was still there, some nights.

"Is it...are you-I mean..." he trails off, and Santi can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off the man - but it's genuine under the veneer, which is probably what's causing the frustration.

"I'm okay. Just regular insomnia this time. Hence the book," he picks it up enough that Adam can see the cover, "on early renaissance trade negotiations." There's a snort, and a shadow of a smile at that.

Santi grins at him again before going back to it, both of them letting the quiet slip back in between them, comfortable and familiar.

Santi's a little surprised Adam stays, really. But like hell he's going to chase him away, so instead he just enjoys the silence and the companionship for what it is.

He almost startles then, when Adam breaks the quiet, about five minutes later.

"You got a new one." And it takes a moment - Santi risks a glance upward to see where Adam's looking - before it clicks. When it does, he flexes his hand a little - aware, conscious, not entirely sure what to do with it - "Yeah, about a month ago." He offers, looking at the thick black ring on the second joint of his left index finger. It's stacked above a much thinner one, and next to two wavy ones on his middle finger. He has seven of these little rings total, between his two hands, and he'd honestly almost forgotten about the most recent one - it already blending into his self-image comfortably.

There's quiet again, but not nearly as comfortable this time. Santi shifts just enough to sneak a glance at Adam out of the corner of his eyes. He's eyeing the new band, the faintest glint of curiosity warming those cool green eyes, even as his shoulders hunch up around his ears.

He thinks on it for all of a moment before he's offering over his hand, keeping his eyes squarely on the book in front of him. There's stillness to the quiet now, but Santi keeps his hand held out in offering.

Eventually - the space between them stretching thin and fragile - Adam takes his hand carefully between his to get a better look, and Santi knows they both can feel the way his heart skips.

But if Santi keeps looking at the book, maybe they can both pretend they don't.

“What are they for?” Adam asks, voice softer than before, yet somehow managing to fill the suddenly small space between them.

“Different things.” There’s an unsuccessfully stifled snort, and Santi grins, finally relaxing into the offstep moment, “Wanted to get one right after...everything, with Murphy. But with the hospital, and then the warehouse set up, and then the carnival...couldn’t seem to find the time.”

“That doesn’t quite answer the question.” It’s an opening - an escape, if Santi wants it.

And normally, Santi would take it. But, then, normally? It’s not Adam who’s asking.

Still staring at a book he can no longer read, he flicks his right hand out to tap at the ring on his middle finger before resting his chin on his right hand again.

“Got that one first, sophomore year of highschool.” There’s confusion twisting up Adam’s face, where Santi’s looking out of the corners of his eyes again, but, to his credit, he doesn’t ask. Just listens. “Just out of a year of physical therapy, and regular therapy, honestly. Gave me something to look at, when I woke up and couldn’t remember where I was.” The hands around his twitch, curling more firmly around in a way Santi’s pretty sure Adam doesn’t even notice.

“But, then, I got this one,” he curls his left index finger in Adam’s hand, biting back a grin when Adam relaxes his grip again a little too suddenly, as if shocked. But he doesn’t let go. “When I got my degree, and the second one there when I graduated from the academy. So. Yeah, different things.” He finishes, a little weakly - trying to think of a way to continue, to stretch this moment out, and failing.

There’s the barest touch of featherlight curiosity on his skin - fingertips glossing over ink before they’re gone again, and before Santi can really help himself, he’s curling his hand around Adam’s before he can completely pull away, stopping him in his movement as sure as if he’d been frozen.

What distracted gentleness had found them in the lull suddenly feels like glass but Santi just softly squeezes Adam’s hand, and then lets go before Adam can even form the words to hide away.

“Thanks for noticing.” Santi says to the book.

“...Thank you for telling me.” It’s sincere, and it’s heavy, and god, Santi would tell him anything, if he’d just ask.

Wonders if that’s what scares him.

But Adam’s not leaving. He’s no longer relaxed, sure, but he’s not leaving.

“Think I can bore us both to sleep with Sicilian trade nuances?”

Another stifled snort, even as Adam crosses his arms over his chest, and leans back enough in the chair for a fair approximation of ‘go on’. And all Santi can do is smile into the pages.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 💛 You can find the rest of my Wayhaven nonsense [here](https://chroniclesinlacuna.tumblr.com/)


End file.
